


touch

by clocky



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10041071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clocky/pseuds/clocky
Summary: "Sorry. I guess you're not much of a touchy-feely person, huh?""No," Kuja agrees, "I'm not."





	

* * *

 

The first time Zidane touches him, gently resting his hand on Kuja's shoulder, Kuja fires off a Flare spell without even thinking. It misses Zidane by mere inches and leaves him staring at Kuja in shock and disbelief.

"I'm sorry," Zidane stammers, holding his hands up to his chest, away from Kuja. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Kuja says nothing, only glares up at his little brother, his eyes narrowed, magical energy still crackling through his fingertips. Zidane takes another step back, eyes widening.

Without a word, Kuja whips around and storms off, long hair and skirt billowing behind him in a way that reminds Zidane of a very temperamental, very deadly stormcloud.

 

* * *

 

The second time, Zidane asks first.

He gets a sharp, high-pitched laugh in response. "Why?" Kuja sneers in a way that's all too reminiscent of his old self. He's supposed to be better, he reminds himself, but that doesn't stop him from reverting to his cruel, cold facade whenever he's taken off guard.

"Why?" Zidane scratches the back of his head and shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe I just wanna be a little closer to you."

Kuja doesn't know what to say to that, and Zidane takes the opportunity to slowly, cautiously rest his hand on top of Kuja's, keeping eye contact all the while for any sign of displeasure. If there's one thing Kuja knows he's good at, it's holding a poker face, and he stares defiantly back at Zidane, all the while resisting the urge to yank his hand away.

Zidane can feel how tense he is, and pulls away with a sigh. "Sorry. I guess you're not much of a touchy-feely person, huh?"

"No," Kuja agrees, "I'm not."

They sit in silence after that.

 

* * *

 

The third time, Zidane doesn't think about it all. He practically throws himself at Kuja, examining his brother all over and making sure that he isn't hurt. "Are you okay?! Geez, don't scare me like that! I thought..." He trails off, unwilling to finish the thought.

Kuja knows exactly what he thought. He can't blame Zidane for being scared upon walking into his room and finding him sitting rigidly upright on his bed, eyes completely unfocused and his mind slown down to a crawl, until Zidane had snapped him out of it.

He knows how much he looked like one of the _other_ Genomes.

"I'm not dying," Kuja lies.

"Good," Zidane mutters, and pulls him into a tight hug.

Kuja wishes he wouldn't.

 

* * *

 

The fourth time, Zidane is running his fingers through Kuja's hair, lathering it up with sweet-smelling soap as he sits quietly in the tub. Just because his fine motor skills are failing him doesn't mean he's willing to neglect his appearances. Zidane is awful at applying makeup but at least he can do this for Kuja.

"Did you always have hair like this? It's gorgeous," Zidane comments, trying to make conversation. "Seems like all of us look the same except you."

"It's not natural." Kuja supposes it doesn't matter any more if Zidane knows. "I looked like all the others at first. I couldn't stand it."

Zidane hums in surprise, obviously not expecting the answer he received. "Huh. I guess I just assumed you were born special or something. But you're just like the rest of us."

"Yes," Kuja agrees. He doesn't have the energy to be angry about that fact any more.

"You are special, though," Zidane continues as he begins to rinse Kuja's hair. "Mikoto really looks up to you, you know."

Kuja makes a noise of disapproval. "She should find a better role model."

Zidane chuckles. "I think she's doing okay."

 

* * *

 

The fifth time, Kuja is the one reaching out to touch Zidane. It's really for Zidane's benefit, not his own, because his little brother is crying and Kuja doesn't like seeing him unhappy any more. Zidane has always been so strong, and now Kuja had reduced him to this. It makes him sick.

"Stop crying," he commands, even though he knows it won't do any good. To Zidane's credit, he does try, taking in deep breaths of air as he clutches Kuja's trembling hand.

"You're gonna be okay, alright?" Zidane manages between breaths. "We'll fix this."

Kuja knows they won't. But he squeezes Zidane's hand weakly, attempting to offer some form of comfort while he still can.

To Kuja's surprise, it actually brings a smile to his brother's face. Zidane still looks like a mess, his eyes wet and red from equal parts crying and lack of sleep; his hair is disheveled and his whole face is flushed. But that small smile is the nicest thing Kuja's seen all day.

And as Zidane clutches at his hand like a lifeline, cradling him gently and whispering comforting words, Kuja thinks that maybe being touched isn't such a bad thing after all.

All too soon, his eyelids become heavy, and fatigue begins to overtake his frustratingly frail body. "I'm tired," he mumbles, pressing his face into Zidane's chest. He knows Zidane is still holding onto his hand, but he can no longer feel it.

"I know," Zidane replies quietly, and his voice sounds farther and farther away, lost in the blinding blue light that’s creeping into the corners of his vision. "It's okay. You can sleep."

Kuja is too tired to respond, so he allows himself to close his eyes, and focuses on Zidane's far-away touch until he can't feel it anymore.


End file.
